


i'm my own soulmate

by thunderylee



Series: kinktober 2020 [4]
Category: NEWS (Japan Band)
Genre: Body Swap, Canon Universe, M/M, Mentions of Current Events, smut with substance, tegoshi cameo - maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:20:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26962033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Shige wakes up in Koyama's body and discovers that he's deeply attracted to himself.
Relationships: Kato Shigeaki/Koyama Keiichiro
Series: kinktober 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954222
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	i'm my own soulmate

**Author's Note:**

> kinktober day 10: body swap. title from lizzo.

“Meow.”

Shige peeks open one eye at the unfamiliar sound. He knows what noises a cat makes, of course, but he doesn’t usually wake up to one pawing at his chest. Even when he used to sleep over at Koyama’s, back when he lived with his mom, Nyanta would leave him alone. He hasn’t slept over at Koyama’s since he’s had Milk.

It’s Milk who blurs in front of him though, and his first thought is that his allergies aren’t suffocating him. Maybe they’ve been cured? That’s ridiculous, he berates himself as he stretches his limbs that feel longer than normal.

Then he realizes he’s in Koyama’s bed. A thousand scenarios flash behind his eyes before it occurs to him that he’s alone. Well, alone as far as humans go. Milk is still persistently waking him up and dragging him out of bed as much as a cat is capable of doing.

“Koyama?” he calls out, and even his voice sounds different.

“ _Meow_.”

“Okay, okay.”

Shige supposes the least he can do is feed her. His weight is all wrong when he tries to stand up, nearly knocking him off balance. How much did he have to drink last night? From what he remembers, he only had a small nightcap, and he definitely went to sleep in his own bed.

He’s watched Koyama feed Milk enough to know where the cat food is and how much to give her. He watches her munch happily as he tries to focus his eyes. He’s wide awake now, but he still can’t seem to see. Perhaps Lasik has a shelf life? It has been over ten years since he’s had it done. He’s not looking forward to going under that laser again.

“Koyama!”

He peeks over the back of the couch expecting to see his longtime friend and colleague passed out, but there’s no one there. There aren’t even any blankets to imply that someone had slept there last night.

Shige checks the spare bedroom. It’s not exactly a guest room, but he supposes Koyama could have slept on a futon in there. It’s empty too, as is the bathroom. There aren’t many places for a grown man to hide in an apartment, especially someone Koyama’s size.

He sees Koyama in the mirror and spins around. There’s no one there. It feels like he’s in a horror movie as he slowly turns back to the front, the whole scenario made even creepier by the fact that he can’t actually see clearly. Even so, that’s definitely Koyama’s face staring back at him, squinting like he does when he hasn’t put in his contacts yet.

“Koyama?”

Koyama’s mouth moves the exact time Shige’s does. Shige screams. Koyama screams too, with absolutely no delay, but there’s no sound aside from what echoes in Shige’s own head. It’s joined by his heartbeat when he notices how similar to Koyama’s scream it is. Not exactly the same, but Shige’s recorded voice doesn’t sound like the voice in his head either—at least, the one that’s usually there. Not the one that’s there now.

Shige frowns at his confusion. Koyama frowns too. Shige lifts up his left hand and watches Koyama do the same. He looks at the shirt Koyama is wearing and peers down at his own. From what he can tell, it’s the same. He tries some quick movements, like he could make Koyama falter if he goes fast enough, but every single one is matched. What he sees in the mirror is his actual reflection, only it shows Koyama instead of him.

“Whatever,” Shige mumbles as he searches for a spare toothbrush. He still has to work today, trick mirror or not.

Then he gets toothpaste all over his mouth and brushes his lips more than his teeth. He’s reminded of that time he sprained his left wrist and had to use his right hand to perform dominant functions. It was a mess. Later, after he joined NEWS and learned that some of them were ambidextrous, he tried to strengthen his right hand with minimal results. He could barely manage chopsticks, let alone write or do anything that requires precision.

Now, his right hand is the only one that works. He brushes his teeth without any further issue and doesn’t even make a face at Koyama’s cinnamon toothpaste. Like cat dander, it doesn’t seem to bother him today. In fact, nothing much bothers him, aside from not being able to fucking see. It’s like his anxiety gave him the day off.

When he goes to brush his hair, he’s surprised at how straight and short it is. He supposes his curl could have gone limp, but that would just make it longer, right? Looking at Koyama’s face in the mirror isn’t helpful, so he goes off in search of another reflective object. For an idol, Koyama doesn’t have a lot of mirrors.

Eventually, he angles a spoon in the light and curses his wretched eyesight even more. From what he can tell, Koyama’s face is there too. What kind of alternate universe did he wake up in? Sighing, he resigns to have short, straight hair today. Maybe the staff will be able to fix it.

That reminds him that his manager will be picking him up shortly to go to the set. Does he know that Shige’s at Koyama’s? Shige looks for his phone but can’t find it anywhere. Koyama’s is plugged into the charger by his bed, but he probably doesn’t have Shige’s manager’s number. Shige’s had him on speed dial for years, so he’s never bothered to memorize it.

There are five missed calls and fourteen text messages on Koyama’s phone. Shige tries to read them, but the kanji is too small. What he can see is his own face in the display picture next to all of them.

“Oh,” he says out loud. “Koyama must have my phone.”

That’s the only thing that makes sense right now. Instead of listening to the voicemails, Shige hits the redial button. His own voice answers, shocking him so much that he doesn’t notice how _frantic_ it sounds until it’s been going on for quite a while.

“—keeps running through my mind over and over. How do I make it stop? You can’t possibly live like this...Shige? Are you there?”

“I’m here.”

Hearing the voice he’s currently using to speak along with the one he’s always known, at least the recorded version, makes the difference obvious. In addition to Koyama’s reflection, hairstyle, clothes, and eyesight, Shige has his voice too. Ordinarily, he’d be freaking out as much as Koyama seems to be over the phone, but his mind is blissfully peaceful. In fact, the only thing he feels is concern for Koyama.

“Koyama, calm down. Take a deep breath, holding it for as long as you can.”

“I can’t—“

“You can. Breathe with me, okay?”

Koyama lets out a reluctant grunt and Shige tries to coach him as well as he can over the phone. Four counts in, hold for seven, exhale for eight. He’s been doing it for so long that it almost comes naturally, yet it feels different now. He doesn’t need it, for one thing. His heartbeat and breathing are more relaxed that he’s felt in a long time. It’s nice.

Three guided breaths later, Koyama sighs in a way that’s so reminiscent of Shige’s own frustration that Shige’s worry spikes. He expects to have to ward off unpleasant thoughts about what Koyama’s thinking, but all he feels is compassion. Shige’s done hour-long meditations that didn’t leave him as compassionate as he feels now, like his whole heart is wrapped around Koyama’s soul. It’s equal parts pleasant and disturbing.

“Do you, like, take medicine or something?”

Koyama still sounds stressed, and Shige realizes this is what _he_ would sound like if he didn’t work so hard to speak carefully and not let his anxiety show. Speaking of anxiety, it should really be flaring at the mention of medicine, an accusation even, but the unnatural compassion inside of Shige just swells even more. Now he just wants to hug Koyama and tell him that everything will be okay, there are people who love him and support him regardless of what the demons in his head say.

Everything Koyama usually does for him when he gets like this.

“No, I don’t take medicine,” Shige answers slowly. “It hinders my writing.”

Koyama scoffs. “How do you function? It took me an hour just to get out of bed.”

“Used to it, I guess. Do you want me to come over?”

It’s eight in the morning, but Shige’s compassion is only focused on making Koyama feel better. At the very least, they should switch phones and get back to their own homes. If they do it right now, Shige won’t have to call his manager.

“I would love that, but according to your schedule I’m getting picked up in twenty minutes for filming. I’ve been cramming your script in-between anxiety attacks, because apparently our bodies don’t come equipped with any memories.”

“What are you talking about?” Shige asks, his heart pounding. It would be familiar if it wasn’t blatant fear taking him over. “I’m the one who has filming today.”

“Shige, look in the mirror.”

“I _did_. All I see is your face. How did you trick them to do that, anyway?”

“Shige! Listen to me! I am you. You are me. We switched bodies.”

Shige blinks as everything starts to make sense in the most nonsensical of ways.

“That’s ridiculous. How would that even happen? There are no such things as brain transplants.”

“It’s so creepy to hear my voice so cynical,” Koyama says incredulously. “And I think a soul transplant would be more accurate, since I have your amazing eyesight.”

“Meanwhile, I can’t see a fucking thing.”

“You need to put in my contacts. They’re in the case next to the bed. Or if you don’t want to fuss with them, my glasses are in the drawer. Be kind to my body, Shige! I’ve worked really hard to keep it healthy.”

Shige’s eyeroll actually hurts, like it’s the first time he’s ever done it. “Have fun at my filming, I guess. Remember the breathing exercises if you start to feel overwhelmed.”

“I’ll have your manager drop me off at my place afterward, okay? We’ll figure out how this happened and how to reverse it.”

“I want to go home,” Shige whines, hoping his pout is as effective as when Koyama does it. “If I’m not working today, I have things I want to do.”

“But Milk-chan will be lonely. She’s not used to being home by herself all day anymore. And my mom is coming by to do my laundry and stock up my fridge. I already called her and tried to tell her what happened, but she thought I was you playing a practical joke.”

“That’s probably something I would do,” Shige admits. “I don’t think I can pretend to be you well enough to fool your _mom_ , though. And why is she still cooking for you? You’re thirty-six years old.”

“It’s an excuse to see her every week. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, but she insists. I’m happy to let her. It’s the only company I get anymore.”

Shige feels an ache in his heart that is completely new. He’s pretty sure he’s known sympathy before, but it’s never been this strong. His urge to race over and hug Koyama is even worse now. No wonder Shige’s always shrugging him off.

“I better get ready to leave. And cram some more lines.”

“Good luck.”

“You too. See you later.”

Shige hangs up and stares at the picture of Milk on the screen of Koyama’s phone. He’s never been a fan of cats, but he’s also always been allergic to them. Maybe he’ll like them now that they don’t make him miserable.

He spends ten minutes trying to put in Koyama’s contacts before giving up and wearing the glasses. Suddenly, everything is much clearer. He has glasses of his own, but they’re just for reading and blocking the blue light from his laptop. Being able to focus also alleviates the slight headache he’d gotten, along with relaxing his eyes that don’t have to squint anymore.

The first thing he does is return to the bathroom mirror. Koyama’s face stares back at him, this time with stylish glasses. Shige has looked at Koyama many, many times over the past twenty years, but it feels different this time. He _is_ Koyama. At least, he’s wearing Koyama’s face. And walking around in his body.

He looks down and scrutinizes the lean torso and long legs. Koyama’s belly practically concaves, and would probably continue to no matter how much Shige ate. His biceps are almost as big as his head, pumping his ego more than he’d like. And something tingles under his skin, an itch that scratching doesn’t satisfy. Running his palms up and down his arms makes it a little better, though it just makes him want _more_.

He’s heard of people being touch-starved before, but he didn’t actually think it was a physical condition. Right now, he wants to be hugged so tightly that he can’t breathe, someone else’s hands applying pressure to his skin. The instant he thinks about another person, his own face flashes in his mind and he gets a sharp chill that he can’t entirely attribute to fear.

Without his anxiety, Shige’s more confused than concerned at his new body’s reaction to thoughts of his old one. Koyama’s brain supplies him with warm feelings of comfort and trust along with what Shige is reluctant to refer to as physical yearning. Certainly, he’s not attracted to _himself_ like this. And if he is, does that mean Koyama’s attracted to him normally?

His headache returns full-force, Koyama’s brain not used to all of this deep thinking. That’s not to say that Koyama doesn’t think normally, or that he’s not capable of intelligent deduction; he just accepts things as they are and doesn’t put too much effort into understanding why. When he woke up in Shige’s body this morning, he undoubtedly just went with it. Or, more likely, Shige’s morning anxiety was more of an immediate threat.

Having a clear mind is amazing. Shige almost hopes they don’t go back to their original bodies, even if that means he has to live the rest of his life as Koyama. He would probably miss his own life, though. He doesn’t want Koyama to suffer either, especially with all of this newfound compassion he has. Maybe he’ll bring back some of it to his own body, because it's nice to feel such unconditional love without any resentment.

Milk jumps up onto the couch the minute he sits down, immediately plopping herself into his lap. Shige eyes her contemplatively, wondering if she can tell that her master has a different soul. He pets her carefully, feeling a rush of happiness simply from stroking her fur, which amplifies when she starts purring.

“Koyama Keiichiro, you are so easy to please,” he mutters under his breath. He’s only a little sad that he can’t get this kind of dopamine shot in his own brain.

He scrolls through Koyama’s calendar and unread notifications in case there's any business he needs to take care of. It’s not snooping if he’s in Koyama’s body, he tells himself. It’s not like he’s scrolling through Koyama’s secret Twitter account. The text messages are mostly boring, anyway. Confirmation of work activities and promises to meet up with juniors and old colleagues when the world is safe again.

Koyama actually doesn’t text a lot, or at least not a lot of different people. His message window goes back to early June, where Shige hovers over a familiar name before electing not to click on it. He already knows what their most recent ex-member said to Koyama anyway. It was in the tabloids.

He expects to be mad, like he usually is when he thinks about that guy, but this strange sense of pride swirls through him. It’s just like Koyama to be _proud_ of someone who screwed them over so badly. There’s a hint of sadness too, which makes sense, but for the most part Shige regards him fondly now, like a child who graduated school and moved out of the house onto the next phase of his life. His continued success is a reflection on the three remaining members and everything they had together as four.

Shige’s crying before he realizes it. Stupid Koyama and his stupid emotions. Shige has to take off the glasses to wipe his eyes, but they just replenish with fresh tears. Milk paws at his chest and he instantly wraps his arms around her, holding her in a kitty hug that makes it easier to cry out everything Koyama’s heart is making him feel. He’d known that Koyama felt like a failure as a leader after this last defection, but he’d had no idea how much _regret_ was associated with that. Not only does Koyama blame himself for losing another member, he also takes responsibility for losing a close friend.

Ironically, it’s the first time Shige has cried over that guy. He’s been too mad to think about being sad, even if that might have been on purpose. Shige cries all the time at movies and particularly moving stories he hears, but crying over someone like this felt like losing. Even now, he’s still competing with the one who likely doesn’t think about him at all anymore. Either way he looks at it, he loses.

He grabs some breakfast-slash-lunch and busies himself by doing a half-assed workout on Koyama's strength machine. Even without trying, he can bench more than he can in his own body, which is more depressing than satisfying. Showering isn't as weird as he expected it to be either, even when he cleans places he's _never_ touched on Koyama. He supposes it's no different than washing his own junk. 

He still looks like he'd bawled his eyes out when he clears the fog from the mirror. Koyama's nose is bright red, his eyes a little glossy. He must have really learned to control his emotions or he'd look like this all the time. While Shige is an expert at withholding anger and many other un-idol-like feelings, he doesn't know anything about sadness. The urge to cry because he's actually upset and not because someone's lover died in a fictional situation is foreign to him.

He’d forgotten all about Koyama’s mother coming by until the front door rattles and Shige nearly jumps out of his skin—Koyama’s skin, whatever. He throws on some clothes, willing his face to clear up as he rushes to let her in and help her with the bags of food.

“Have you been crying, Kei? What’s it this time, American refugees?”

Shige almost laughs out loud, because Koyama really did tear up while reading the world news last week.

He opens his mouth to answer, but then she’s got him locked into a tight embrace and his breath is completely taken away by another rush of happiness. Shige doesn’t remember the last time he hugged his own mom, even before the quarantine, but he’s certain it didn’t feel this nice.

“Don’t tell me it’s Shige-kun again.”

That gets Shige’s attention. He slips out of the hug and focuses on stacking the plastic containers in Koyama’s barren fridge. “What about Shige?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Keiichiro. I’m your mother. You’ve loved that man for over half of your life. What happened this time? Is he seeing someone? Is he ignoring you?”

“No, nothing like that.”

Shige has to make effort for the first time today to keep his surprise from showing in his voice. He’s always known that Koyama felt strongly toward him—hell, Koyama tells him as much every time they see each other—but crying over him is a different story. Even now that he’s in Koyama’s body, thinking his thoughts and feeling his emotions, it comes as a complete shock that he’s made Koyama cry before.

“Fine, don’t tell me. He called me earlier, you know. Tried to tell me that he was really you and you were him. Like I don’t know my own son! He seemed really panicked, though. Is he doing okay?”

“He has anxiety,” Shige blurts out. “His mind is always racing and it stresses him out a lot. He’s managing it with exercise and deep breathing, but mornings are the worst.”

It’s the first time Shige’s really tried to put it into words outside of Google searches, and it’s harder than he thought. Especially since he’s not experiencing any of it right now, it feels like he’s trying to speak of it as a third-party observer. At least this is how Koyama would probably tell his mother about it.

“That’s awful,” Koya-mama replies, clutching her heart. “I bet you’re upset that you can’t make it better, huh?”

“I...what?”

Shige chokes on his words as he considers how his condition affects Koyama. Of course, someone like Koyama who exists to make people happy would be disheartened when he alone couldn’t help Shige. Somewhere in the back of Shige’s mind, he knew that was the reason he didn’t tell Koyama about this before now. Hell, the only reason Koyama even found out is because he experienced it himself.

“You have to just _be_ there for him, Kei. Forcing him will make it worse. He’s going to suffer regardless, so make it your goal that he suffers a little _less_ when you’re around.”

Shige just nods, too overcome by Koyama’s sudden wave of guilt to speak. While he’s no stranger to not understanding his own feelings, it’s surreal to react to someone else’s like this.

“I was crying about Tegoshi.”

Saying his name doesn’t hurt as much as it usually does. That’s a nice feeling too.

“Still? I thought your daily Tego-chan cries were over. You’re not blaming yourself anymore, are you? It’s okay to miss him, but it’s not okay to beat yourself up about the fact that he left. Do you understand?”

Shige cringes like he’s getting scolded for real. “Yes, Mother.”

“Since when do you call me that?”

“Mom,” Shige corrects quickly. “Mommy?”

He gets a swat to the back of his head.

“You can’t be that sad if you’re getting sarcastic with me. Now help me with these sheets.”

Shige’s happy to have something to do, rushing to strip Koyama’s bed. That seems to be all of the assistance Koya-mama requires though, and Shige has to admit it’s nice to just sit there and do nothing while someone else tidies up. His own mother would laugh in his face if he asked her to come clean his apartment.

The afternoon passes by faster than Shige expected, listening to story after story about Koyama’s family members and the happenings at the ramen shop. He pretends to know what Koya-mama is talking about every time she says “Remember when” and interjects with his own “really?” and “is that so?” like Koyama would.

When Koyama’s clothes are hanging outside to dry, Shige’s a little sad to see her go. That could just be Koyama’s heart speaking, but Shige hasn’t spent this much time with her since Koyama still lived at home, and it was nice to catch up—if one could call it that. Maybe he’ll make it a point to visit her every now and then when he’s back in his own body.

The parting hug is just as nice as before, only this time she’s the one to pull away. She tells him to behave and take care of Shige before she leaves, reminding Shige of all the strange feelings he has for _himself_ now that he’s alone again.

At least his—Koyama’s—drama filming will be over soon. He decides that being in Koyama’s body permits him to eat Koya-mama’s food and he heats up one of the plastic containers for dinner, settling in front of the TV to watch the news while he eats. It’s so delicious that he considers asking her for the recipe.

The news turns into prime-time dramas, which has Shige’s new body feeling restless. Koyama’s not usually one to sit and watch a lot of TV unless it’s anime or something starring one of the members. He sifts through Koyama’s anime collection to see if there’s something that sparks his interest, and he’s surprisingly engrossed in The Promised Neverland before he realizes he hadn’t had an urge to write _once_ today.

It’s such a empty feeling after being accosted by his imagination at least once a day since he was a kid. Even if he doesn’t actually end up making words, like when he tried medicating his anxiety, the _need_ is there. Not having that aspect of his mind is worse than not having his own body. If he’s not a writer, he’s not himself.

He’s still in the midst of his existential crisis when there’s a knock at the door. Shige shifts gears, psyching himself up for being face-to-face with his _own body_ , but nothing could have prepared him for the freight train of emotions that barrels into him while his _real_ reflection stands right in front of him.

“Sorry, I didn’t know which key was mine.”

Koyama’s manner of speaking doesn’t fit with Shige’s voice. Nor does the soft gaze of his eyes or the way he’s wringing his hands.

None of this matters to Koyama’s body, which starts to pull toward Shige’s like a magnet. Shige has to use all of his self-restraint not to throw his arms around Koyama and hold him close, all of his compassion turning into regular passion so fast that it scares him.

“It’s this one.”

Shige takes the keychain that Koyama’s holding out and points to a key. There are quite a few keys and none of them are marked, so it makes sense that Koyama would just knock instead of finding the correct key by trial-and-error.

Thinking about the keys helps Shige _not_ think about Koyama. Or, more accurately, thinking about Koyama as himself. Even clearly exhausted and rumpled from working all day, Shige’s fighting the urge to comfort him. To relax him. To _love_ him.

“I don’t think anyone on set noticed,” Koyama’s saying, oblivious to Shige’s conundrum. “Nobody there really knows you that well, and I subdued my energy a bit. I remembered your lines well enough, so I didn’t make you look bad. How did it go with my mom?”

Shige tries to recall something they talked about that _wasn’t_ deeply personal. “Fine. Ren-kun made a volcano explode for his science fair project and it got all over everyone. He still got an A.”

“That’s my boy! He’s so smart, Shige. He’s gonna be a doctor or something.”

“Maybe we should call _him_ to see why this happened to us, then.”

Koyama laughs. “I tried to tell your manager and he didn’t believe me either. He said you were bad at jokes.”

“ _He’s_ bad at jokes,” Shige grumbles. “I guess it doesn’t matter if they know or not. We can navigate each other’s lives well enough.”

Koyama doesn’t respond right away, and Shige doesn’t think anything of it until he chances a look over and finds Koyama staring at him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m looking at _me_ ,” Koyama says incredulously. “I look so different through your eyes.”

“My eyesight _is_ better than yours, even with your glasses.”

“It’s not that. You just... _shine_ , I don’t know. I honestly never thought you saw me as more than just a friend, but the feelings I get when I look at you now tell me differently.”

A chill spreads all throughout Shige’s nervous system, starting at his spine and ending at the tips of his fingers and toes. It would be terrifying if Koyama’s body wasn’t beyond thrilled at the idea, like Shige had just confessed to him for real and he was reacting to a conversation that Shige himself was completely left out of.

“Shige, are you in love with me?”

“What?!” Shige practically exclaims, his heart beating so fast that he feels like he’s in his own body again. “If anyone feels like that, it’s you! I’ve had to hold you back from jumping me since you walked in the door. How do you control yourself every time we’re together?”

“I guess I just do it so much that I’m used to it. Kind of like you with your anxiety.”

He smiles gently and Shige feels like a balloon of tension that had been popped by forces other than his own. If his smile has that much effect on people, he’s certainly going to do it more often.

“Are you in love with me, Kei?”

“I asked you first.”

“I didn’t _think_ I was...” Shige trails off as he tries to put his thoughts in order. Even with Koyama’s brain, it’s difficult. “Normally, it’s hard for me to even think about you like that without getting stressed out.”

“I understand that. I’ve been deep-breathing all day and your blood pressure is still higher than mine when I’m doing cardio. You said you were running for exercise now, but your legs did not want to move at all this morning.”

“I run at night,” Shige tells him. “Mornings are bad.”

“So I’ve noticed.”

They stare at each other for so long that Shige gives up holding himself back and pulls Koyama into a hug. Koyama doesn’t struggle, or maybe it’s Shige’s body that melts into Koyama’s arms and even wraps his own around Koyama’s waist.

“This is so weird,” Shige says into his own fluffy hair.

“You’re telling me.”

“Do you think this happened because of our unresolved feelings for each other?”

“Are you saying you have unresolved feelings for me?”

Shige groans while his own low chuckle tickles his neck. “Apparently, I do.”

“If that is the reason, then the only way to switch back is to give in to it. I’m fine with it if you are. If the thoughts that are racing through your mind right now are any indication, your body is fine with it too.”

“But being attracted to myself is so _creepy_.”

Koyama pulls back enough to fix Shige’s eyes on his own mouth. “My pout really is dangerous.”

Shige kisses him. There’s a squeak of surprise, but it’s far from a protest as Koyama presses closer and kisses back. It’s easier with his eyes closed, when he can feel Koyama instead of seeing himself, though there’s a benefit in knowing all of the good spots to brush with his hands to have Koyama moaning into his mouth.

“I know what you’re doing,” Koyama whispers when they finally pull apart. “I can do it too.”

Shige cries out in Koyama’s strangled voice when lips press against his neck, nipping a little with teeth. Koyama’s even more sensitive like this and it’s all Shige can do to remain standing, another rush of _want_ coursing through him when Koyama trails fingers over the jut of his hip.

“You are so easy to turn on,” Shige gasps out.

Koyama leans up for another kiss before shoving the shirt over Shige’s head. “It’s just you.”

Shige gives up trying to understand what’s happening here and just lets it happen. His breath catches in his throat as Koyama traces the outline of his abdominal muscles, making his way up to the pectorals that have both of Shige’s hips snapping toward nothing.

“We have such an advantage like this,” Koyama says as he drags his lips down to meet his fingers. “I know what I like and you know what you like, so we can blow each other’s minds without having to worry if what we’re doing feels good or not. We already know it does.”

“It’s still weird,” Shige grumbles, his stubbornness interrupted by another moan when Koyama finally licks a nipple. “I don’t usually like this.”

“I can tell. I don’t feel anything where mine rub against this shirt. You like it now, right?”

“Obviously.”

Shige grabs Koyama by both hips, fingers sinking into the flesh he hasn’t managed to burn off of his sides as he gives a firm grind. He’s harder than he’s been in a long time and Koyama has to feel it, the promising friction making it difficult to stay still.

“Is this the part where I pretend not to notice how much you want to suck me off?”

“I—what?!”

“Shige, your mouth was practically watering the second I felt it. I won’t do anything with your body that you don’t want me to, but I need you to understand how badly you want it right now.”

A hand dips between Shige’s legs and Shige rocks against it, only a little disappointed that Koyama’s lips have abandoned his nipples, now dragging up his collarbone. Then Koyama’s back in his mouth and this kiss is much faster, much deeper, tongues coiling as Koyama grips him through his pants and all Shige can think about is returning the favor.

He fumbles with the fastenings of his own pants, barely getting them open before dipping his hand inside. The appreciative noise he gets is higher than expected, his voice cracking as Shige has the surreal experience of touching his own cock without feeling the results. It’s like the first time he traded handjobs with another guy, only this time the shape and texture is familiar.

A comment is on the tip of his tongue, which is occupied by Koyama’s and therefore unable to speak. At any rate, his attention shifts when Koyama pushes into his hand and Shige feels it deep inside him, a throb he hasn’t felt before even when he’s actually had someone inside him. It feels good enough, but now he’s actually _yearning_ for it premeditatively, the ache spreading through his whole body at the thought.

He takes great joy in making his way out of Koyama’s mouth and saying, “Is this the part where I pretend not to notice how much you want me to fuck you?”

“You don’t have to pretend,” Koyama replies, easily relocating his mouth to Shige’s neck. “I doubt you could if you wanted to. It’s so forceful, right? Every time I snap my hips, like _this—_ ” Shige arches as Koyama thrusts again “—you think about me doing it inside you.”

Shige just nods, unable to speak. Koyama’s stupid bangs fall into his eyes as he twists his wrist just how he likes it. He _will_ get the upper hand here, so to speak.

“I’ve got another advantage here, because I know how I feel too,” Koyama goes on. “I know how much I want you. I know how much I’ve wanted to hear your voice talk to me like this, saying filthy things like ‘I’m gonna fuck you so hard’ in your deep, sexy voice. You really get off on having power too. Making me fall apart like this is really getting you hot.”

“That explains why I’m resisting so much,” Shige gets out. “Your body wants to let you do whatever you want while I want to have some control.”

“Here’s some control for you. Pick the place, position, and order.”

Being told what to do in his own voice is just as arousing as it is degrading. He uses all of his strength to pry them apart and catch his breath, adjusting his pants like that gives him any sense of dignity. He makes the mistake of opening his eyes and sees himself so blatantly turned on, cheeks flushed and chest heaving as Koyama struggles to maintain his own breathing. Shige doesn’t make a habit out of watching himself jerk off, so he hasn’t seen himself like this before.

Koyama’s body, however, likes seeing it very much. Shige can’t find any reason to deny it what it wants, so he considers their options and what would make him feel the most comfortable submitting to Koyama.

“Back of the couch, face to face, suck me off first.”

“How creative.”

Shige can’t tell if Koyama’s being sarcastic or not, but it doesn’t matter when Koyama disappears down the hall and returns with some foil packets and a tube. Seeing such determination on his own face makes him feel strangely proud, then Koyama’s mouth is back on his neck and those hands are making quick work of the rest of his clothes.

It should unnerve him to be completely naked while Koyama is completely dressed, but Koyama’s body doesn’t seem to have the same shame his own does. On the contrary, it _loves_ being looked at, eyes raking down its nude form in real time as Koyama gets to his knees. He doesn’t waste any time sucking Shige into his mouth, and Shige instantly sinks his fingers into the long, fluffy hair because he likes affection while he’s giving head.

The concept of his own mouth sucking him off fades into the background as he starts to enjoy it. He doesn’t doubt that it’s even better because Koyama knows how to pleasure himself the best, even if he hasn’t quite adjusted to having Shige’s mouth yet.

“You can take more,” Shige says gently. “I don’t have a gag reflex.”

Koyama responds by following directions and Shige tosses his head back, moaning outright as Koyama sucks him all the way down. He feels throat muscles tightening around the head and has to fight to keep from thrusting—that _will_ make him gag—twisting his fingers into his hair instead.

Then he really does lose his balance when Koyama lifts one of his legs over his shoulder, but the back of the couch is there for him to lean against. Shige didn’t expect the two events to overlap, but he doesn’t much mind feeling a slick finger poke between his cheeks while Koyama sucks him in and out. If nothing else, it helps stretch him more easily.

He bets Koyama knew that. The fact that Koyama’s done this enough to have a sequential preference unnerves him a little, but he can’t think too hard about it with Koyama playing his body like an instrument. He forgets all about it when Koyama goes straight for his prostate, rubbing with the perfect amount of pressure to have Shige jerking from the sensations.

“I’m gonna come soon. I mean, you’re gonna come. Whatever.”

Koyama’s laugh vibrates the entire length of his cock and Shige whines in the back of his throat. Koyama doesn’t speed up either of his actions, but he does keep pushing that button inside him that has Shige ready to claw out of this skin that isn’t actually his.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he growls in a voice that’s very unlike Koyama. “So close.”

Koyama pulls back to suck on the head and it’s all over, orgasm crashing over Shige so strongly that he loses his sense of time and space. Even with the couch holding him up, he grasps for gravity, still out of it when two arms hook under his knees and lift him up.

“Are you gonna take my clothes off or what? You have to know that I’m burning up.”

Shige laughs and reaches out absently until he finds fabric. Koyama makes a relieved noise as Shige disrobes him as much as he can while sitting on the back of the couch, and Koyama kicks off the rest. His cock juts out and Shige licks his lips, the body he has throbbing even more now that Koyama’s pulled out his fingers to sheath himself. Shige watches him, admiring how nice it looks pushing through his fingers like that. Maybe he will start watching himself jerk off after all.

A moan escapes his throat when Koyama stands between his legs and positions himself for entry. “You ready?”

“You know I am.”

“I do know, but I thought it would still be polite to ask.”

“Fuck me, Kei.”

Koyama does. He slowly pushes inside, then pauses to wait for his body to get used to it. Meanwhile, Shige pulls Koyama back into his mouth, tasting Koyama’s release while Koyama’s hands return to his nipples, which are even more sensitive after he comes. Soon, Shige’s the one rocking his hips, legs wrapped around the waist between them. Koyama kisses him deeper as he starts to move.

It feels so much better than when he’s in his own body. Koyama likes this more than he does for sure, but there’s also the relaxed nature of his brain that makes it comfortable for Shige to be open and exposed like this. There are no thoughts berating him or shaming him for enjoying it this way, no worries about how Koyama’s going to look at him afterward. The only thing he feels is red hot passion, each thrust of Koyama deep inside him escalating it to a place where all he knows is Koyama and love.

“I love you.”

It’s not Koyama who says it, at least not the voice he currently controls.

Lips press all over his face, briefly landing on his before the next thrust knocks them away.

“I love you too, Shige. I always have.”

“I know. Your mother told me.”

“Let’s not talk about my mom while we’re having sex, okay?”

Shige starts to reply, but then Koyama grabs him by the ass and Shige’s breath gets stuck in his throat. Koyama fucks him harder, touching him right where he wants it and making it feel good even though he’s already come. All he can do is hold on, grasping his own broad shoulders as he feels them start to tremble.

“I’m not good at holding back,” Shige says apologetically, nosing his way behind his jaw to scrape his teeth along the skin. That always drives him wild.

“Shige... _Shige_...”

“Come for me.”

Koyama cries out in Shige’s low register, fingers digging hard into his skin as he thrusts a few more times, then falls still. Shige’s the one who has to hold Koyama up when his knees give out, the pair of them nearly toppling over the back of the couch until Koyama finds his balance and pulls them back up. Their mouths find each other again and they kiss lazily as Koyama carefully pulls out and Shige stretches out his long legs.

When Shige opens his eyes, he’s still looking at himself. Debauched and sated, but it’s still his face gazing at him adoringly. Perhaps giving in to their unresolved feelings for each other wasn’t the switch to turn them back after all.

“That was _amazing_ ,” Koyama squeals as they really do tumble over the back of the couch. Koyama lands on top of Shige and Shige can’t even be bothered with it because this body craves this kind of weight and pressure after sex. “Your mind is clear for the first time today.”

“Yeah, orgasm usually gives me a blissful reprieve for a while. It doesn’t last, though.”

“Then I will enjoy it as long as it does.”

“I’m sorry you got stuck with my stupid brain.”

Koyama lifts his head up and Shige finds himself on the other end of one of his scathing scares. “Your brain is not stupid. It’s just struggling. We just have to find what makes it happy—other than orgasms.”

“You make it happy,” Shige says without thinking, and that smile brightens up his life again.

“I’ll just have to come around more.”

Shige thinks about relaying the advice Koyama’s mom had given him, but he doesn’t have the energy. As it is, he could fall asleep right here on the couch with his own weight on top of him, no worry about getting cold or feeling gross all night.

“Ah, I get sleepy after sex,” Koyama says, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You’re wide awake though.”

“If you’re wide awake, take me to your actual bed.”

Koyama starts to comply, huffing as he drags Shige down the hall. “I sure am heavy.”

When they make it to Koyama’s bedroom, Milk regards them from the very center of the freshly made bed, stretching cutely.

“Baby girl!” Koyama exclaims, letting Shige slump onto the mattress as he dives for his kitty. Milk, not knowing Shige very well, screeches and scrambles out of the way. “Ah, Milk-chan doesn’t love me like this.”

He pouts as he disappears to the bathroom, and Shige squirms when he returns with a warm washcloth to clean him up. It’s not as weird as he expects, particularly when Koyama kisses him all the way through it and dresses him before guiding them both under the covers.

An additional weight on the bed signals Milk’s return, and Shige sighs when she plops down right on top of his chest. She digs her claws in his shirt when Koyama lifts a hand for her to sniff, but she must deem him worthy to pet her because she starts purring the instant he starts stroking her fur.

Then Koyama sneezes, scaring Milk so much that she flies off the bed again, and all Shige can do is laugh.

The next morning, his sinuses are congested and his mind is racing, but it’s okay because he’s in Koyama’s arms. He pokes Koyama in the side until he whines out loud. Shige prefers Koyama’s voice much more when it’s not inside his own head.

“Yay, we changed back.”

Koyama kisses him full on the mouth, morning breath and all, and Shige couldn’t be happier.

Later, when they meet up with Massu, Shige immediately knows that something’s wrong. Not only is Massu wearing clothes that fit him properly, he passes up on the treats the staff had brought for them. And he stares at Koyama and Shige like he hasn’t seen them for much longer than a couple weeks.

“Massu?” Shige says carefully.

Massu shakes his head. “Massu’s head is so empty! It’s kind of boring.”

Koyama and Shige exchange a look. “Nakamaru-kun?” Shige tries.

Massu shakes his head again, then flashes a very un-Massu-like grin and holds his palm up to his face. “Tei!”

“Oh no,” Shige says.

Predictably, Koyama cries.


End file.
